"You are out of bed, monsieur," I cried.
"But yes," he answered, springing up, "I am as well as ever I was. Félix, what has happened to you?"
I glanced at the serving-man; M. Étienne ordered him at once from the room.
"Now tell me quickly," he cried, as I faltered, tongue-tied from very richness of matter. "Mademoiselle?"
"Ah, mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. "Mademoiselle is—" I paused in a dearth of words worthy of her.
"She is, she is!" he agreed, laughing. "Oh, go on, you little slow-poke! You saw her? And she said—"
He was near to laying hands on me, to hurry my tale.
"I saw her and Mayenne and Lucas and ever so many things," I told him. "And they had me flogged, and mademoiselle loves you."